


Insubstantial

by ReaderJane



Category: Angel: the Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderJane/pseuds/ReaderJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike makes first contact, post-Chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insubstantial

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sb_fag_ends prompt, Trespass  
> Part of the same series as [Your Turn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/129064) and [A Man of Parts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/126391)  
> Timeline: AtS early season 5  
> Disclaimer: still not mine, alas

" 'Lo, Bit."

The emptiness on the other end of the phone could have been anything from stunned silence to bored indifference.

"Dawn? Are you there?"

Dawn's voice came back in her best put-upon tone with an undercurrent of panic. "Look, whoever you are, this isn't funny."

"It's me, I promise." Spike searched for something to convince her. "Ask me anything. Something only I would know."

He listened to her breathe through the speakerphone for a moment until she said, suspiciously, "What was the first thing I ever stole?"

Spike replied immediately, "New Kids on the Block CD, Los Angeles Walmart."

"Ohmygod!" Dawn squealed, and Spike winced as the phone's feedback went off the human register. "I knew it! I knew you'd come back. Angel came back, and Buffy came back even though everybody said she couldn't, and hey even Cordelia came back, so I knew you'd -- where are you? Are you in California?"

Spike smiled, picturing the way she bounced on her toes. "Yeh. At Wolfram and Hart."

"Do you need us to come rescue you? We're in Cleveland, so it would take awhile to get there, but Giles will cough up the plane fare if Buffy asks him, so--"

"No! Don't... don't tell Buffy yet. I'm, um, I've got a bit of a problem."

"What's the sitch? Are you in chains? Guarded by demons? Did they -- ohmygod, did they take your soul out again?"

"No. No, the spark's still there, at least I think..." Spike skimmed down the list of his transgressions, Chapter One, and felt the familiar ache that had burned since he'd made his quest to Africa. "Still there. It's my body's gone missing."

"So you're, what, a ghost?"

"Something like that." Spike grimaced at Fred to forestall her objections. "Anyways, I can't leave the city 'til I'm sorted. So hold off the cavalry. Not that it wouldn't be entertaining, watching an army of Slayers storming W&H to rescue a vampire." He grinned. "But, uh, let's wait til I'm a bit more solid to tell Buffy, right?"

"Why, you think she won't like you anymore if you don't have a dick?"

" _Dawn!_ " Beside Spike, Fred dissolved into silent laughter. He glared at her, then at the phone.

"What? I'm a sophomore; I'm in Driver's Ed and everything. I can say 'dick' if I want to."

"Not to me. I'll wash out your mouth with soap."

"How're you gonna do that if you're a ghost? Besides, you say way worse stuff. Do you think I don't know what 'sodding' means, just because it's British?"

Fred let out a snort.

"Who's that?" Dawn demanded.

"This is Fred. She dialed the phone for me."

"Hi, Dawn," Fred called in a voice choked with laughter.

"Hi," Dawn continued suspiciously. "Fred... Willow said she met you, when she went to L.A. After Buffy died."

"That's right. I work with Angel."

"You work with Angel and you're helping _Spike?_ "

"Well, it's a really interesting problem with all kinds of potential applications. Spike's not actually a ghost. He's radiating thermodynamic energy, and he's able to interact with his physical environment, at least enough to produce sound waves that can be captured--"

Spike broke in. "You ladies can talk theory later. Dawn, how's Buffy? Is she all right?"

"Is she pining, do you mean?" Spike could hear the eyeroll. "She says she's fine, but you know how Buffy is. Judging by the number of weapons she breaks a week, there's definite brooding going on. For a small consideration, I could tell you what she says in her sleep."

"I've not exactly got a wallet at the moment, and where do you get off listening to Buffy in her sleep?"

"You can owe me. By the time you and your dick are three-dimensional again, I'll be rich."

" _My dick is fine._ Dawn, just tell me -- uh, oh..."

"Spike? Are you there? What happened? Fred, did he just do something gross?"

Fred answered, her voice strained. "He faded out again. He's been doing that more often the past couple of days. I'm checking everything I can think of to check, but I'm getting kind of worried."

"What can I do to help?"

"We figured you know Spike better than anyone except Buffy, and he didn't want to tell her he was back until he knew for sure he could, y'know, stay back. Spike said you were good at languages, so I thought maybe I could bounce some theories off you, see if something clicks?"

"Anything. Fire away. I've got all the time in the world."

Fred pulled up a stool and flipped open her notebook.


End file.
